The Difference Between
by gaarafreak
Summary: Following the events of ME1&2, Shepard is called back to the Citadel to diffuse the anti-human sentiment among non-humans, spearheaded by a very unhappy Turian political party. Spoilers for ME1&2 abound. Garrus/Shepard F
1. First Contact: Decisions

The Difference Between

Author: gaarafreak

Summary: Following the events of ME1&2, Shepard is called back to the Citadel to diffuse the anti-human sentiment among non-humans, spearheaded by a very unhappy Turian political party. Spoilers for ME1&2 abound. Garrus/Shepard (Female Paragon with some Renegade choices mixed in)

A/N: This is my first Mass Effect fanfic. Constructive criticism is appreciated, so be gentle. And please review, even if you don't have any criticism too, because reviews are fun to read. Also, it's late when I finished this, so there may be typos. Okay.

**First Contact—Decisions**

"Commander, Councilor Anderson requests you speak with him in the communications room." EDI's mechanical voice broke the silence in Commander Shepard's room.

Jane Shepard sat on the edge of her bed, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, her face resting against her intertwined hands. Lost in thought, she had even forgotten to strip off her armor after returning from the Collectors' base. She unhooked the clasps at the sides of the chest plate and the whole section of armor fell to the floor. She left it there and started working on her shoulder armor and gauntlets. "Seriously, EDI? I just saved the galaxy. Again. Can't I get an hour to myself so I can catch my breath?"

"My apologies, Shepard, but I received the Councilor's message only minutes after the team departed for the Collectors' base. It has been three hours since your return. Your respiration and heart rate have long since returned to normal levels. And the Councilor insists it is urgent."

"It's _always_ urgent," Shepard sighed, kicking free of her boots and greaves before heading to the bathroom. She was still covered in the muck of battle—had it really been three hours since she had faced that…that thing?

In the safety of her own quarters, hidden from the eyes of all those who depended on her for strength, Shepard—the first human Spectre and hero of the Citadel—crossed her arms tight and shuddered.

She'd seen things so that many in the galaxy would never have to. Horrible things. But nothing compared to the abomination she found on the Collectors' base. Tens of thousands of humans, culled and injected as marrow into the bones of a giant mechanical skeleton. A human Reaper: technology born from the deaths of thousands. And the horrible choice she'd had to make...keep the data to insure human dominance or destroy it and all the evil it stands for.

Keeping the technology, tainted by so much innocent blood, was not an option. It never was. She refused to sell the soul of her people. No, they didn't need to walk the path forged from technology like that. Humanity already had the Mass Relays, the Citadel, all of Reaper design, and still no one truly understood the technology behind it. They merely used it, blindly, as a crutch.

No. Keeping the data on the Human Reaper would be the same. Cerberus would use it and make no attempt to truly understand what they were using—and what was there to understand, anyway? All that path offered was death and destruction.

But did the others understand? Would they condemn her like the Illusive Man had? After her crew had been through so much together, would she lose them, not to nuclear explosions or Collector attacks, but to her stupid self-righteous beliefs?

"Commander, you seem distressed. Shall I—"

"Damn it, EDI, I'm fine. Just give me a few minutes, please," she growled, tossing her bloody, sweat-drenched uniform into the trash in her small bathroom. The black fabric of her uniform was ripped all over—the long tear on the thigh from a Husk that grabbed her leg as she hit it with a shockwave of biotic energy, the multiple burns along the sleeves from particle beams shot at her by Harbinger and the other Collectors.

She stood naked under the showerhead and let the warm water wash away the traces of blood on her skin, the stink of burnt flesh where the beam had scorched her. Technically, it was her second shower of the day, a luxury she'd never taken onboard a ship. Despite the anxieties pressing down on her, Shepard closed her eyes and turned her face up toward the showerhead, running the soap over her shoulders and arms, down her back.

Her fingers brushed against a scab on her that had nothing to do with fighting. One, light scratch just below her left shoulder blade. It was an accident. His talons were just a little too sharp, and he'd gotten caught up in the moment, forgotten she had soft skin, not firm plating like his people had. But he'd been so careful with her. It'd been sweet and at the same, infuriating. She'd had to assure him she wouldn't break under him, he could relax and enjoy their time together.

It had been awkward at first, even though she'd watched the vids Mordin forwarded to her to help in her research…but it had less to do with the physical act than with their nerves. He was nervous, and she'd been trying hard to be confident, but underneath it, she'd been just as anxious. They were both so eager. They needed each other. And then that eagerness melted into something else, something that made her breath catch, her heart race hummingbird fast. Just remembering it sent a thrill through her, brought goosebumps to her skin.

She turned the shower off and caught her reflect in the mirror. Her cheeks were red and she was actually smiling, one corner of her lips curled involuntarily. After the terrible events of the day and the discoveries onboard the Collectors' base, the thought of Garrus Vakarian could still make her smile.

But there wasn't time to reminisce about the texture of his Turian skin against hers. About how his scarred, right cheek felt against her palm. How his mandibles twitched ever so slightly under the pads of her fingers, light as eyelashes on the skin.

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind, and contemplated turning on the shower again. Cold water at full-blast. No, she was almost dry. She'd be fine. Remember your duty. Remember reality.

The Reapers were still out there with unfathomable numbers, waiting the darkness. _This changes nothing,_ Harbinger had said. For all she knew, he was right and the Reaper threat was greater than ever. Worse, now she and her crew had Cerberus to contend with. Soon, her familiar glaring scowl was back. She grabbed a towel from the rack, wrapped it around herself, and went back into the room to find her extra uniform.

---

The communication room was still a mess. Wires hung from the ceiling and there was debris propped against the wall for clean-up once they pulled into port. They need to dock for repairs, to replenish their food and fuel supplies.

"Commander, I should remind you—" EDI started.

"Yes, I know. Thank you. Patch me through to Councilor Anderson on the Citadel." Shepard leaned both hands against the counter in front. A holographic image of the Normandy hovered above the length of the desk.

One of the monitors set into the counter lit up, displaying Anderson from the shoulders up. "Shepard. We have a problem."

Shepard pressed her lips together in a thin frown and thought,_ Of course we have a problem. Humans always have a problem. _Frustration flooded over her, threatened to engulf her, but she just took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "You might be happy to learn that my crew has solved the Collector problem. The Terminus colonies should be safe now. Well. Safer. Never completely safe, especially with the Reapers still—"

"Shepard, listen. You're needed on the Citadel. Things are getting tense here."

"What? How so?"

Anderson sighed, closed his eyes, pressed his index finger and thumb against his eyelids. "You know, sometimes I wish I hadn't let you drag me into this, Shepard. Letting the old Council die and leaving me to pick up the mess…well, now everything's gone to hell. Things are bad. It's not safe, not even with C-Sec."

"Slow down, Anderson." Shepard held out both hands as if to calm him. "I don't understand. What's the situation on the Citadel?"

He stopped talking and seemed to stare straight at her through the monitor. There was a frantic helplessness in his expression that reminded her of the young woman, trapped in the pod in the Collectors' base. The look of someone in danger, someone at their wit's end. "There was a riot in the Wards. An anti-human protest got out of hand. They were rallying against the supposed 'human coup' in the Citadel. They're a bunch of nut-job conspiracy theorists…but they've gained a lot of support in the recent months."

"A riot?"

"A big one. Had to call in C-Sec officers in riot gear to suppress the crowd. Had to use tear gas and concussion rounds. Lots of injured Turians. A few humans got caught by the rioters before we could get the situation under control."

"Turians? Were they the only ones rioting?"

Anderson didn't answer. Someone stepped up next to Anderson, an older man in white. Shepard recognized the face: the former human ambassador, Udina. "Shepard. This isn't the time for you to be running around the galaxy playing hero. You are a symbol for our people, you represent the best humanity has to offer. We need you here right now, building bridges, where the aliens can see you. And your crew."

She leaned back, drummed her fingers against the countertop. "I see. My crew is diverse. You want to use me to prove that humans can play nice with others."

"We have a series of diplomatic missions waiting for you." Anderson said. "But we can discuss that once you reach the Citadel."

She could just tell them to go to hell. She didn't have time for this stupidity. Problem was, she felt responsible. During Sovereign's attack on the Citadel more than two years ago, she had been forced to make a horrible choice. Us or them. Attempt to save the dreadnought, Destiny Ascension, from heavy fire, risking thousands of human lives for the old Council…or focus on taking back the Citadel.

How do you weigh one life against another? Human, alien…at the end of the day someone was still dead.

She sucked in a breath and clenched her jaw shut. She remembered the Destiny Ascension ripped apart, its destruction. Her stomach sank. Why was she always the one who had to make these terrible decisions? She swallowed, wet her dry lips with her tongue.

Anderson and Udina were waiting for her answer.

Because she was the first human Spectre. Hero of the Citadel. The best humanity had to offer, apparently. She stood up straight. "The Normandy needs to pull into port for repairs anyway. Citadel's as good a place as any."

Before she could cut communications, Udina blurted, "Commander Shepard, wait." She paused with her hand over the console. "For this mission, may we request that you bring certain members of your crew best qualified for the situation?"

She raised one eyebrow. "Who do you have in mind?"

"The Turian."

She waited. When he didn't continue, she leaned her head to the side, squinted at the monitor and asked, "Garrus?"

"The Turian government is the most vocally opposed to humans, probably because of the lingering resentment regarding the First Contact War. Don't be seen without him. We need face time with non-human species, and he'll be a valuable asset to that end."

"Garrus isn't a tool or a trophy. He's a valued member of my squad."

"Yes, yes, all the more reason to use him. Parade him around the Citadel, prove that humans and Turians need not be at each others' throats." Udina said.

Shepard pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead. "Fine. Anderson, we'll be there in a few hours. But I intend to share what I found on my mission to the Collectors' base with you. It's more important that this interspecies bitch fest you two have managed to create."

She cut the transmission before either of them could argue. "EDI, have Joker take us to the Citadel. Apparently, we can't stop picking fights with each other long enough to focus on the real threat."

"Is this news to you, Commander?"

Shepard glared at the glowing, blue image EDI had projected over the communications desk. "Not in the mood."

"Logging you out, Shepard."

"Great. Even the A.I. is giving me attitude," she muttered, leaving the communications room. She passed through the tech lab on the way to the elevator, nodding at Mordin, who barely looked up from his microscope to acknowledge her. At least the Salarian scientist didn't seem perturbed by her choice to destroy a cornucopia of technological wealth. But then, he wasn't a human. He had objectivity she didn't.

The elevator ride down to deck three was extremely slow. She tapped her foot on the ground, playing over Garrus's possible reactions. There were so many possibilities. What if he didn't think she'd done the right thing? What if he thought she was an idiot? He probably wouldn't say anything against her, but she would know. He'd give her that look and she'd know she'd lost just a little bit of his respect…

And why was this damn elevator taking so long?

The doors slid open and she hurried out, realized she was rushing and paused. Walk. Don't run. Your crew is around. She was proud of how calmly she turned the corner into the mess area. People eating at the tables. Some cheered when they saw her, waved, thanked her for saving them. She smiled, nodded, kept walking.

Garrus was in the forward batteries. He didn't face her as she walked in, but she could tell he knew it was her. She noticed the slight twitching of his mandibles, wondered if there was a meaning to it, an equivalent human facial expression. "Commander. You made taking out the Collectors look easy. No casualties. It's almost disappointing. I was told this was a suicide mission."

"Sorry, I ruined your plans for a glorious death," she said, rolling her eyes. She walked around him to lean against the railing beside the center console. "How are you doing? No injuries? Are you…"

"I'm fine." He shrugged under his blue armor, glanced up from fiddling with the weapon console to meet her eyes. "Don't worry. I haven't forgotten what we…talked about. Earlier."

She couldn't help the smile that twitched at the corners of her lips. "'Talked about?' Is that some kind of Turian euphemism for—"

"Shepard," Garrus interrupted, sounding almost embarrassed. He reached out and rested his hand on her bare forearm. The rough pads of his palm were warm on her skin. When he pulled his hand back, one of his talons brushed across her skin lightly and she remembered the scratch on her back. The way he was staring at her face, she knew she had to be blushing.

She cleared her throat. He blinked and took at step back, turning his attention back to the console in front of him. "Did you need me for something?"

"I wanted to talk about a few things," Shepard said, pushing away from the railing and pacing through the small room. Garrus glanced at the open door leading out to the mess are. He pressed a button on the control panel in front of him. The door slid shut. He turned back to her, crossed his arms over his chest and waited. She sat down on a storage crate in the corner. "About what we saw on the Collectors' base. That…that monster. The Reaper they were building…well, you saw what they were doing. You saw that poor woman's skin melt off her body."

Garrus nodded. "It was a nightmare."

"It was hell." Shepard snapped, clenching her hands into fists on her lap.

"The crew was lucky. If we'd left just a few minutes later—" Garrus stopped before he could finish. His eyes lingered on her face. "For what it's worth, I think you made the right decision. Nothing could justify using that technology."

For a moment, the relief that flooded through her was so overwhelming she couldn't breathe. "I…was afraid you wouldn't understand."

"What?" His mandibles flared out then pressed close to the sides of his face. His voice sounded confused, almost angry. "Of _course_ I understand. I was there, wasn't I? I saw the bodies piled all over the ship. I saw the millions of Collector pods ready to capture every one of your people on Earth. What could make that okay? Nothing.

"Imagine if the Collectors had been targeting my people. What if it had been Turians in those pods? Would you have still destroyed the technology?"

She was insulted he even had to ask. "Of course."

"Exactly." Garrus moved across the room, crossing the distance between them. He knelt down in front of where she sat on the crate until he was eye-level with her. He placed both hands on her knees, steadying himself and said, "Shepard, I know you. I trust you. Everyone in this crew respects your convictions. We might not always agree with you personally—"

Shepard caught the pause in his speech and looked away.

Sidonis. He had to be talking about Sidonis. She still believed that letting him go was the right choice and Garrus didn't. Of course he didn't. He'd lost good friends because of that bastard. He'd wanted revenge so much he interrupted their life-or-death mission to go looking for it. And she'd denied him what he wanted, talked him down. For a while after that, she wondered if he'd ever forgive her.

He brushed a talon along her jaw and she glanced back up, surprised. He met her eyes without faltering or flinching. "As individuals, we might not always agree with you, but we know that you're thinking of us. And you have everyone's best interests in mind. Don't be so hard on yourself."

He was very close now. All she had to do was lean forward. Just a bit. An inch would do.

She reached for his face, fingers hovering over his scarred cheek. He closed his eyes and turned toward her hand. He was hot to the touch. Feverish.

She leaned forward.

So did he.

"Commander." EDI said.

Shepard jolted in her seat just as Garrus pulled back, lost his balance and fell to the cold metal grating. The blue image projected from EDI's communications terminal on the wall flickered. "Jeff requested that I inform you our ETA for the Citadel is approximately two hours and thirty minutes."

"Thank you, EDI," Shepard snapped, in her most sarcastic voice. Garrus scoffed from his place on the floor. She stood and reached out to help him. He grasped both of her hands and she hauled him upright again. Patting him on the shoulder of his armor, she grinned. "For such a big guy, you don't weigh much. Turians got hollow bones or something?"

"No, you human females just have terrifying upper body strength. It must come from your ape-like ancestry."

When she laughed, his mandibles twitched just slightly. She wondered if that was a smile. "EDI, inform Yeoman Chambers to draw up a schedule for all crew member shore parties. Make sure each person gets at least five hours to relax on the station before we have to head out again."

"Understood, Commander." EDI replied. The blue image projected from the terminal blinked and disappeared.

"It'll be nice to have a few hours to relax." Garrus said. Then he saw her lopsided smile and sighed. "I know that look. What do you have planned?"

"Hey, you should be honored. You've been personally selected, out of all my crew, by Councilor Anderson and Udina to help me in a mission that may affect thousands of lives."

He shook his head. "Again?"

"That's what I said. But yes, again. And they were adamant that you accompany me when I visit them on the Citadel."

He ran the back of his hand along his forehead and grumbled, "I hate dealing with politicians."

"Aw, come on. It can't be that bad. At least you get to spend some time with the best human Spectre around."

"But you're the only human Spectre there is."

"I win by default then." Shepard strode to the door and ran her hand over the lock. It flickered green and the door snapped open. She said over her shoulder, "It's a diplomatic mission, so clean yourself up. Wear something nice."

Garrus touched his armor and protested, "Hey, my armor is nice."

"Something that doesn't have huge chunks missing." She waved to him without looking back. "Seriously. You should've tossed that armor weeks ago, buddy."

He stood in the doorway of the forward batteries, watching Shepard weave her way through the mess area toward the elevators. Then he looked down at his blue armor, poked a talon through one of the holes in the metal chest plate and muttered, "I don't see what the big deal is. It's good armor."


	2. Second Contact: Hostile Takeover

**A/N:** Wow. Thanks for all the reviews. Keep them coming, friends and fellow Turian-lovers. They are the fuel to my fanfic fire. Well, that and the actual game, of course. OMG! I just bought one of the new shirts from the Bioware store! The one with the Cerberus symbol that says "Humanity First" on it! I'll wear it proudly, even though I'm totally a filthy xenophile. I love it.

Also, because I like playlists (and thus made one for this story), here are a few songs that I listened to while writing this chapter: "Where Gravity is Dead" by Laura Veirs and "Goodnight, Travel Well" by The Killers.

**Second Contact—Hostile Take-over**

Shepard noticed the bystanders scattered throughout the Presidium gardens. There were more people than usual. Crowds this large were more common down in the Wards' market than up on the rich, politician level. There was no reason for them to congregate here, usually, but here they were: two large, separate crowds. And there was a clear division to the groups.

The muttering among the crowds ceased as soon as she and Garrus stepped off the elevator that led from the docking area and C-Sec. A hundred pairs of eyes rested on them from across the gardens. There was a heavy silence and an almost electric current in the air.

The crowd of humans stood closest to the Embassy entrance. She recognized a few faces, people she'd met in passing. The Turians were massed on the other side of the gardens, closest to the elevators and where she and Garrus were. None of Turians looked at the humans gathered only a few yards away. She and Garrus had to walk passed both groups to reach the Councilor's office. The whole way, she could feel eyes on her, boring into the back of her head.

One of the Turians she stepped past wore a large button pinned to his shirt. She glanced at it briefly. "Joram Talid," and under that, a motto: "Take Back Your Station."

She realized the Turian wearing the button was staring at her. She smiled and nodded to him, but his expression didn't change. He turned away from her slightly, positioning his shoulder toward her. Obviously, he didn't want to talk.

She and Garrus passed the Turian group into the crowd of humans. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his mandibles pressed flat to his cheeks. She smiled up at him, but knew the expression was probably more a grimace than a smile. "Great heroes' welcome, huh?"

"Hn," he laughed once. It sounded forced. "Glad I wore my armor after all."

There were three C-Sec officers stationed at both Embassy entrances. All the officers were human, and armed with riot gear, batons, and stun guns. Possibly concussion or taser rounds. Still, she frowned at the sight. They saluted her as she approached. The female officer said, "Commander Shepard, the Councilor is waiting for you in his office."

"What's with the audience?" Shepard asked, jerking her thumb toward the two large groups behind her. "Where are all the Asari I'm used to seeing on the Citadel?"

"No offense," the officer said, inclining her head to Garrus, then addressed Shepard, "but non-humans don't have much reason to be on the Presidium these days. The Council is made up of humans."

"Non-humans." Garrus repeated. "Us versus them. You do realize that all the _non-humans_ put together outnumber your species?"

"It's about quality, not quantity, sir."

"Ever opened a history book? The Rachni would disagree, but they aren't around anymore. Because the Krogan outnumbered them."

"Okay, okay," Shepard said, placing her hand on Garrus's arm. He stepped back and she let her hand drop back to her side. "Excuse us."

The officers glanced from Shepard to Garrus and hesitated. After a few seconds, they stepped to the side and let them both through. Shepard strode through the entrance with Garrus sauntering behind her at a leisurely pace. The officers shot him an irritated glance. "Garrus, stop toying with the help. Hurry up."

One of the male officers muttered under his breath, "Filthy xeno. Wish we could toss 'em all out the airlock."

The other officer replied, without even bothering to lower his voice, "I know. Citadel'd be better without them. Don't they have planets they can go back to?"

Garrus tensed for a moment, mid-stride, and then continued walking. Shepard glared at the officer who had spoken, then at the other two. "Officers Smith, Hernandez and Brooks. I'll remember you three when I speak with Captain Bailey later. I'm sure he'd like to know how respectfully you treated my teammate: a former C-Sec officer and one of the heroes who helped defeat Saren two years ago."

All three officers stood up straighter, and none of them so much as raised an eyebrow in dissent. She was glad. She really didn't want to have to yell or worse, get physical with any of them. Not while both the Turian and humans in the garden were watching her every move. One spark of conflict might ignite the tension in the crowd. She turned and joined Garrus at the stairs inside the Embassy.

"Sometimes I wonder about your species, Shepard," he said, climbing the stairs. "Maybe humans should have had an extra two hundred years to work out all their frustration before they found the Mass Relays. They're kind of aggressive."

She laughed. "You Turians are all racist."

"Just observant."

"And anyway, we're not all aggressive. Just like not all Turians are uptight control freaks. Am I right?"

He cast her a sidelong glance. "Right. What I don't get is why the Councilors asked for me to accompany you."

"Really? No guesses?" Shepard asked. He shrugged.

"I'm no good with politics, Shepard." He ran a talon along his cheek, tracing the dark blue markings on his cheeks and jaw. "Maybe you should have brought Mordin. Or Miranda."

"Hey, this isn't my area of expertise, either." Shepard stopped outside Anderson's office and reached for the door control. "Besides, they asked for you and me specifically. So we do our job. Ready?"

He reached up to the collar of his armor, pulled on it a few times. Then he stretched his neck and squared his shoulders. "I'm with you."

She slapped the control and the doors opened soundlessly. Anderson was leaning on the railing of the balcony, staring out at the gardens below. He looked over his shoulder when they entered. "Shepard. Good to see you again. I wish it were on better terms."

He crossed the room and grasped her hand in a firm handshake. She placed her other hand on top of his. "You look tired, Councilor. Are things that bad?"

Anderson let go of her hand and moved over to his desk. Once he was seated on the edge of the desk, he said, "You have no idea. Udina will be here shortly, so I'll try to fill you in before he arrives."

Shepard walked over to the balcony and stared down at the Presidium gardens. It was even easier to see the division between the groups from overhead. The space between the humans and Turians seemed to have grown larger. "What are they doing here?"

"It's almost election day. Everyone wants to be heard, seen, to think they're making a difference. And we can't stop any group from congregating in peaceful protest unless we impose martial law. We haven't had to do that since Saren's attack…and, well, you saw it. It's like they're just waiting for a reason to riot."

"By 'they'…"

"All of them! The humans out there are as much of a problem as the Turians! They're at each others' throats." He moved to stand at the balcony next to her. "The humans gathered are all part of the Terra Firma party. They're extremely human-centric. Like Cerberus."

She gripped the railing hard enough to turn her knuckles white. Cerberus. The Illusive Man. Anderson took no notice of her reaction and continued, "And the Turians, well, they're Joram Talid's supporters."

"Why does that name sound familiar?"

"Commander, he's the barefaced politician we saved from Thane's son," Garrus offered from across the room. "The one Bailey said was running for Council on anti-human slogans."

"Oh. Really? He's still in the running?"

"He's the top contender. In fact, if you believe in polls, he's all but guaranteed to win against the incumbent human Council member."

"Okay, so humanity loses one seat on the Council. Big deal, there are four seats and three of them are still held by humans."

"The big deal is, we've come too far to let things go back to the way they were before Saren destroyed the old Council!" Udina answered before Anderson could even open his mouth. Shepard closed her eyes and sighed. Apparently they hadn't talked fast enough. "Don't look at me like that, I'm a Council member too, and I deserve the same respect you give Anderson. You're a Spectre and as such, you serve the Council, which means you serve me!"

Garrus added in an indifferent voice, "I say we let them handle their own problems. You and I can hit Flux before we have to go back to the Normandy."

Shepard, Anderson and Udina all looked at him. He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his middle. "What? I've always wanted to go to Flux."

"Your Turian isn't taking this seriously, Shepard," Udina said, turning his glare onto her. "We can't have another riot on our hands. Who knows what the Turians will resort to if they continue unchecked!"

"'Unchecked?' How exactly do you intend to check them?" Garrus demanded, pushing away from the wall. "What's going on here? I thought we were here on a diplomatic mission. Humans were the newcomers on the Citadel. Now you've taken over the Council, C-Sec, and worse, you're using your power to subvert people who were here before you. This is crazy."

"Commander! Control your subordinate! His personal opinions have no place in this discussion!" Udina commanded, retreating to the balcony. Garrus hadn't taken more than a step toward him and already the Council was running away.

Shepard said, "Councilor, you requested Garrus accompany me. Why would I silence him when his personal experience as a Turian is what qualified him for this mission?"

"This is an outrage! Anderson, are you going to let her—"

"Shut the hell up already." Anderson ordered. Udina's face flushed red then drained of color, but he remained quiet. "Here's the problem, Shepard. Joram Talid is going to win a seat on the Council. There's no way to prevent that short of fixing the election or assassination."

Shepard started to shake her head, but Anderson laughed once and continued, "Don't worry. I wasn't going to ask you to dirty your hands with something like that. I know where you stand on shady dealings."

"Though **I** wish you would put humanity before your own stupid convictions for once." Udina grumbled. "Sometimes the end justifies the means, Shepard."

As soon as he said it, all she could see was the human Reaper towering over her, monstrously huge and almost impossible to destroy. The death of her people flowed through its veins. They were the means and it was the end. And it was never justified.

Something inside her snapped.

She turned on the petty, little man in front of her, grabbed him by the collar of his expensive suit and yanked him close to her face. "You want me to do something good for humanity?" She shoved him back until the railing stopped him. "How about I make it so there are TWO Council positions open? Give the aliens a chance to fill another spot on the Council that used to be theirs."

"Calm down," Anderson said, placing one hand on Shepard's arm. She jerked away from him, walking across the room to put distance between her and the slimy politician still leaning against the railing. "Udina, how many times do I have to tell you? Don't piss off the Spectre. We need her help. Talid won't negotiate with anyone else."

Shepard halted in her pacing. "He wants to talk to me? What for?"

"Damned if I know. Turians have that weird honor code. Maybe he feels like he owes you for saving his life," Anderson said. "Whatever the reason, we need you to act as a go-between. Try to get something worked out with him. We have to get this situation handled before someone gets themselves killed. Riots are bad enough, but with all the bad history between us and the Turians left over from the First Contact War…well, things could get a hell of a lot worse."

"You know, we don't have time to be at each others' throats like this. The Reapers are out there, waiting, and they don't care if it's human, salarian, asari or Turian, we all die the same to them. They plan to wipe out all life in the galaxy, same as they did with the Protheans, and with other species thousands of years before them. I saw what they were doing to the human colonists from the Terminus systems."

"Anderson," Udina said in a warning voice, turning to the other man. "The only human Spectre is a paranoid schizophrenic."

"The Collectors were building a Reaper. A Reaper made from the genetic material of humans." Saying it out loud like that, even Shepard was taken back by the absurdity of her argument. _Oh yeah, and the Collectors are remnants of the supposedly extinct Prothean species, altered and controlled by Harbinger, who, as luck would have it, is another Reaper._

_I need a fucking drink._

And they were both looking at her like she was crazy. And, for once, she couldn't summon the will to argue anymore. It was probably exhaustion, stress, the fact that no matter what she did there was always another problem to solve, but all she wanted at the moment was to find the nearest bar and knock a few back. She fought back the urge to rub her temples, a sign of weakness.

"I was there. I can verify the Commander's claim." Garrus's voice was firm, unyielding. It helped a little.

"It's not a matter of verification," Anderson said. "I believe her. But there's nothing I can do until the Council meets, and the Council is on recess until the election."

"Bureaucratic bullshit. This is exactly why I left the Citadel in the first place," Garrus growled. "You won't even do anything to help her help you. This is why we ended up going to people like Cerberus. I don't know why she even bothers half the time. You won't listen to her anyway!"

"Garrus. It's okay."

"No, it's not okay," he said, walking to the door. "I've had enough politics, I won't listen to them insult you and demean the sacrifices made by your crew. This isn't a mission, it's a joke. I'll be outside."

The doors slid shut behind him. She stared at them in silence for a few moments, until Udina spat, "Turians."

She didn't say anything. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The anger inside her, the helpless frustration, subsided. She addressed Anderson, pointedly looking past Udina. "Have the Asari or Salarians taken steps to reclaim their positions on the Council? How widespread is this 'anti-human' thing?"

"None of the non-human species on the Citadel are very happy with us. They're calling what happened after Saren's attack, the 'human coup.' But the Turians are by far the most vocal. The Salarians may be backing them behind the scenes, acting as a sort of information network, doing the intel work that Turians don't have the patience for. And the Asari…well, they prefer a more diplomatic approach to settling matters. None of the rioters taken into custody were Asari."

"Send me Talid's contact information. I'll meet with him on my terms and see what I can do." Shepard held up her right hand and her omni-tool glowed yellow around her forearm. Anderson went to his desk and pressed a few buttons. She lowered her arm and the omni-tool faded away. "Alright, I'm leaving. I'll stick to the Citadel for a few days, just until the election. And I'll make sure to show off my 'diverse' crew."

"See that you do," Udina stated. Anderson walked with Shepard to the door and shook her hand again. "Remember, Commander, you're the best humanity has to offer. All eyes are on you, so try not to start any trouble. And absolutely NO talk of Reapers until after the election. We don't need any extra help losing that Council seat."

"It was good seeing you again," Anderson said quietly, giving her hand one more shake.

"Yeah. Keep fighting the good fight, Anderson. I'll do what I can." She let go of his hand and walked out the door. Garrus was waiting in the shadows of the hall leading to the exit. He started toward the stairs when he saw her leave the office. "Hey. Wait, a second. I don't want to go downstairs yet." She moved into the shadows, leaning against the wall next to him.

"You didn't deserve them treating you like that. You're a damn _hero_."

She scoffed, a humorless smile slid across her lips. "Yeah. Well, you don't deserve any of the shit you've been getting. It's worse than ever, Turian-this, xeno-that. I don't get it."

He stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the stairs. "I'm glad you don't get it. I barely understand it." His mandibles tucked close to his jaw. She reached up and brushed her fingers along one of them. It twitched.

"You and me, we aren't so different. I mean, not in any way that matters." She said in a quiet voice. "And I trust you. More than anyone. It shouldn't be impossible for our people to understand each other."

"I'd like to believe that." His voice was barely a murmur, with a quiet, purring undertone that made her heart leap into her throat. He captured her hand brushing along his cheek, his long fingers curling around it. "But if humans like Udina are forced to 'understand' Turians like my father…there'll be more riots. Anarchy. Chaos. Lots of people will die from cultural differences."

"At this rate, we'll kill each other before the Reapers get here." She muttered, pulling her hand out of his.

"Excuse me, Ms., you aren't allowed in the Embassy—" one of the C-Sec officers said.

"Commander Shepard? What is that Turian doing to her?" a female voice demanded from the bottom of the stairs. Shepard side-stepped Garrus to get a better look. When she saw who it was, she groaned, and hit the back of her head against the wall behind her.

The reporter struggled to evade the three C-Sec officers' grips, still hollering at Shepard, "Commander, a word, if you don't mind! Do you remember me? Khalish al-Jilani bint Sinan al-Jilani, Westerlund News. May I have a minute of your time?"

"Shit." There were only two ways out of the Embassy and Khalish al-Jilani had both of them covered. The reporter's hovering camera flew past the officers and focused on Shepard's face, shining its beam of light in her eyes. There was no escaping it now.

"Want me to shoot it?" Garrus asked. "Technically, she doesn't have your consent to film."

Shepard shook her head and made her way down the stairs. "This is what we're here for. Play nice. Smile. Or do that thing with your mandibles. Whatever's Turian for smiling."

"I can do that," Garrus said just as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Shepard nodded to the C-Sec officers and they let her pass. Khalish took a step back to give her room and her floating recorder hovered back to the air near her shoulder, still trained on Shepard.

Staring into the face of the most annoying reporter on the Citadel, Shepard had to remember that she had dealt with far worse. Collectors. Husks. Driving the Mako over steep mountains. There were worse fates.

But the woman with a fake smile plastered over her face still wasn't making life easier for her today. Shepard crossed her arms and said, "Miss al-Jilani. How may I help?"

"I just want to get your opinion on the upcoming election and state of the Citadel." Khalish brought her datapad out and pressed a few buttons. Shepard stared at it, annoyed. So the reporter got to look at her notes, but she had to do her best from memory? Shit.

"I'll answer to the best of my ability. I've been away from the Citadel for awhile, though, so I may not be up-to-date on current events."

"Interesting. So the human Spectre doesn't feel the need to keep abreast on matters pertaining to human safety on the Citadel. I suppose being around all those aliens constantly has altered your priorities. You are still loyal to humanity, aren't you, Commander?"

Ah. Attacking right off the bat. Okay. Calm down. "The matters I deal with pertaining to human safety are the big ones. The ones that can wipe out whole species. Which means, I'm working for the safety and security of all people throughout the galaxy. Human or not."

"Were you looking out for the safety of all species when you ordered the Alliance fleet to ignore the Destiny Ascension two years ago?"

Shepard put both hands behind her back, stood up straighter. There was only one way to answer that. "Yes."

"Many Asari, Turians, and Salarians on the Citadel would disagree. They would call your action the decisive moment in the human coup. That your decision to leave the old Council to die was what cemented human dominance on the Citadel."

"People would have died regardless of the decision. We needed the Alliance fleet to focus on taking back the Citadel from Saren and Sovereign. Innocent lives were being lost every second I delayed."

The recording device flew toward Shepard, circled around her head for a better angle as Khalish demanded, "Are you implying the old Council members weren't 'innocent?'"

"They weren't civilians. Which means they would understand the decision I made."

Garrus leaned in and whispered, "Commander. I don't like this."

She waved him away, but Khalish had already seen the exchange. Her eyes all but glowed with curiosity. "One of your crewmates? And he's a Turian."

Shit.

Garrus wouldn't know what to do once the lights focused on him. Shepard offered, "That Turian has a name: Garrus Vakarian. And he's a valued member of my team."

"I knew your crew was diverse, Commander, but a _Turian_? Given the current state of human-Turian relations, aren't you concerned about him leaking information or sabotage?"

"Never." Shepard stated. "And I'm offended you even asked."

Khalish raked them both with a look. "Hm. You have more confidence in this Turian than you have in your own people?"

"I have many skilled humans working onboard the Normandy. Species is not a deciding factor for joining my crew. Garrus has worked with me the longest of all my current personnel. He and Tali'zorah vas Normandy helped me defeat Saren two years ago."

"You heard it here, folks. The fate of humanity rests on the shoulders of a Turian and a Quarian. I'd say, it's a bad day to be a human. This is been Khalish al-Jilani, Westerlund—"

"No, this is unacceptable." Shepard stepped forward, jabbed her finger at Khalish and interrupting her before she could sign-off. "Say what you want about me, but don't you dare badmouth my crew. They put their lives on the line everyday so that people like you can live without worrying about the horrible things that hide in the darkness between stars.

"Now, if you'll excuse me. I have to fix everything the politicians, human and otherwise, have messed up since I've been gone. I don't have time for your accusations and insults." Before Khalish could regain her composure enough to ask another question, Shepard stormed passed her and away from the Embassy entrance. Garrus side-stepped the reporter and caught up to Shepard in two long strides.

"You've got a bad temper, Commander."

Shepard laughed, casting a sidelong glance at him as they made their way through the crowd of humans. The humans gave them both plenty of room, as though they were afraid to get too close to them. They watched Garrus warily. Shepard wanted to stop and scream at them all for being idiots, but knew it would only drive them away more. They needed to build bridges. Yelling didn't build bridges.

Even if it would make her feel a little better. "Wanna get a drink?"

Garrus shrugged. They reached the edge of the human crowd and Shepard's omni-tool lit up. She'd received Joram Talid's reply. "Lucky us. He wants to meet at a bar in the lower Wards called Heorot."

"I've heard of the place. It's a little hole-in-the-wall bar, run by Roskir, a Turian who hates humans."

"Of course he hates humans."

"Well, if I remember right, his grandfather served during the Relay 314 Incident. I think he was stationed in Shanxi."

"Okay. So how do you know him?"

Garrus scratched at the back of his neck with a talon. "After you died and the crew of the first Normandy disbanded, I came back here for a while. Tried to fit back in. I worked for C-Sec for a few weeks. Heorot was the place the Turian officers went to unwind. The human officers all went to Flux. Once, I tried to go with the human officers…but the atmosphere was tense. I felt like I was the odd one out. So I went to Heorot with the other Turian C-Sec members. It was easier. That was before I got fed up and left for Omega."

They reached the rapid transit terminal and Shepard pressed a few buttons. Before she could select her destination, she caught a blur of movement out of the corner of her eye and ducked on reflex. Garrus's arm whipped out and snatched something from the air, inches from where her head had been.

A rock the size of her fist rested in the palm of his hand. Shepard scanned the crowd of Turians only a few feet away from where she and Garrus stood. Countless blank eyes stared back, daring her to say something. There was no telling which had thrown the rock.

Garrus let the rock drop from his talons. It clattered to the cement. "Let's get out of here, Commander."

Shepard turned back to the terminal and punched in their destination while Garrus kept his attention on the crowd. His fingers moved impatiently at his side as if he wanted a weapon to hold. Something to defend himself with. Shepard felt the sudden urge to slip her hand into his and hold it tight. Instead, she cracked her knuckles and waited for a car that would take them to the Wards.

It only took a minute for an empty car to come flying down the rail toward them. But it was the longest minute she'd had to endure since their assault on the Collectors. They got into the small vehicle and sat down on opposite sides of the car, facing each other. The door clicked shut.

A piece of something—food, maybe?—hit the window next to Shepard with a splat. She barely had time to register it, before they were in motion, the car hurtling down the rail toward their destination. They'd be in the Ward within a few minutes. But until then, they were completely alone. Shepard reached out and took Garrus's hands in hers. "Sorry you have to deal with this. I should have told Anderson this wasn't your problem. At least you would have gotten some rest."

"Who needs rest?" He leaned forward until his face was a few inches away.

Shepard rested her forehead against his. "Me. I'm exhausted."

"Getting too old to play hero?"

She shoved his shoulders, pushing him away from her. "I'm not old. Jerk. I just got done defeating one threat to humanity today. I'd like a nap before dealing with another one. And the politics…ugh."

"Tell you what," Garrus said, running a finger along her jaw and down her neck. "Once we see what Talid wants…we get a room at a reasonably price hotel—"

"Oooh, frugal." She laughed. "Don't tell me you have a coupon for a one-night stay or I might jump you right now. I love when you talk about saving money."

"Hey, we aren't all living off a Spectre's salary. Some of us are freelancers."

"Vigilantes," she corrected. "Anyway, I can afford the room. We'll order room service. And then…I don't know." She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and tilted her head to the side, giving him better access to her neck. "Maybe we can work on your flexibility some more."

His talon traced little circles on her skin, dipping lower down her throat, until his finger reached the line of her clavicle. He said, "I thought you were tired. I don't want to keep you from your beauty sleep."

The right corner of her lips curled into a half-grin. "Humans have a saying: No rest for the wicked. I'll teach you what it means tonight."

The car slowed. They were approaching the lower Wards. Garrus reluctantly let his hands drop away from her skin and sat back. The intense look he fixed her with brought heat to her cheeks and she took a deep breath. Before the car door could swing open, he murmured, "Looking forward to the lesson, Commander."


	3. Third Contact: Lines in the Sand

**A/N:** You've received a new message at your private terminal.

**Third Contact—Lines in the Sand**

The Rapid Transit system took them as far as the Lower Markets, but to get to Heorot they had to travel deeper into the Citadel, to the lowest part of the Wards, a level below the Lower Markets. Garrus led the way through the access corridor and through the dimly lit alleys until they reached a sealed door in the wall. The sign above the nondescript door read in simple, block letters: Heorot.

A screen set into the wall at eyelevel scrolled the message, "Human customers: The owner of Heorot will not be held liable for any injuries incurred on or around the premises and suggests you patron Flux, on the Upper Wards level."

The florescent lighting above the doorway guttered, the bulb on the verge of dying. Shepard reached for the door panel, muttering under her breath, "Classy establishment, Garrus."

"Only the best for my dates," he replied. The door opened and Shepard stepped in.

A blanket of smoke hung in the air, smelling of some kind of drug. She tried not to cough, but the sharp, overpowering stench still made her eyes water. She knew Turians didn't smoke tobacco, but wondered if the second-hand effects of whatever they were smoking would harm her. It was a fleeting thought that passed as soon as she realized she could still breathe through her mouth, dulling the minty smell of the smoke.

"Watch it!" A female voice snapped, bumping into Shepard, who stood just inside the doorway. Shepard had been letting her eyes adjust to the faint, blue lighting in the bar. She stepped back, giving the other person room. The female Turian shot her an irritated look. "Who let the human in?"

The female Turian was a few inches shorter than Garrus, had less bulk in the shoulder area and a smaller, more delicate ridge around her neck. Her head fringes were long enough to reach the back of her skull and her facial markings were a series of white curves over black plating. The Turian's eyes flicked up to rest on Garrus's face and she said, "Keep your pet on a shorter leash."

The Turian's legs were long and spindly with smaller joints than Garrus had. Shepard figured if she had to fight her, she'd target those nice legs—she could easily sweep the Turian woman's legs out from under her in an instant and send her crashing to the floor. Instead, Shepard raised both hands palms up to show she wasn't a threat, and said, "Look, I'm sorry for bumping into you. I'm here to meet a friend. Have you seen Joram Talid?"

The female Turian laughed, her mandibles flaring wide. The rich, metallic sound was pleasant, even if Shepard didn't like being on the receiving end of the joke. Then the laughter stopped, and the Turian glared at her, eyes reflecting the blue light overhead. "Even if I knew where Talid was, I wouldn't tell you."

"Are you sure?"

"Get lost, human."

"Okay then. Legs it is." Shepard grabbed the Turian by the collar of her suit with both hands, stuck her leg out and slung the Turian sideways over it, toppling her to the ground. Shepard knelt on the Turian's chest, the woman's bony sternum biting into Shepard's knee, and pressed the Turian's cheek to the ground. "Now, let's talk. Where's Talid?"

"Screw you. I'm no snitch."

"Commander," Garrus said calmly. "We're upsetting the locals."

She glanced up at Garrus. He had his assault rifle out and had positioned himself between her and the rest of the room. There were only a few patrons in the bar, but they were all on their feet. Some had knives, others gripped bottles like knives. One had a shot-gun. That was the bartender. He cocked it and leveled the barrel at Shepard's head. "Get the hell off my customer. Now."

"Should I…?" Garrus asked, raising his rifle just an inch.

"No." Shepard sighed and eased her knee off the female Turian's chest, using both hands to haul her upright again. Then she let go of the Turian's collar. As soon as she was free, the female Turian swiped at Shepard's face.

She managed to score a single two-inch talon mark across Shepard's cheek before Shepard caught her hand and twisted the Turian's arm behind her back. The bartender wouldn't shoot now that his shot-gun was trained on a fellow Turian. Shepard put her weight on the female's wrist, until she yelped in pain. Blood ran down Shepard's cheek, and the itching pain irritated her. "You only have three fingers on this hand. Two would make it kinda hard to hold things, don't you think?"

Shepard let go of her hand and shoved the Turian woman into a table. Then she held her hands up again and said to the bartender, "Let's start over. I don't want trouble. I just want to talk to Talid."

The Turian bartender, presumably this 'Roskir' Garrus had mentioned, tapped his shot-gun to a rather large sign nailed to the wall behind him. It read, "Management reserves the right to refuse service to anyone."

"I'm not just anyone," Shepard said, taking slow, deliberate steps toward the counter, her hands still in the air. "I'm a Spectre. Name's Shepard."

"I know who you are. You're the…" He stopped abruptly and paused as if in thought. Then he set the shot-gun on the counter. "For you, I'll make an exception. One drink, on the house."

He reached under the counter and pulled out a bottle filled with bluish-green liquid. He poured a shot and shoved the glass toward her. Before she could reach for it, Garrus snatched it up and knocked the contents back. He winced and said, "Whew! Good stuff." He slammed the empty shot-glass back on the counter and glared at the bartender, though his words were aimed at Shepard. "Would have killed you, though. But that's what he wanted."

"Thanks for the drink." Shepard said, grabbing the shot-gun from the counter and removing the ammo. She set it back on the counter and the bullets in a pile a few inches away. "So. Talid?"

"No way. I ain't selling out one of my own." He spat this to Garrus, who rolled his eyes and turned his back to the counter. "Some of us still have pride. Talid's the only politician looking out for us these days. Lose him, we lose the whole Citadel. What'd the Council do, hire you to _remove_ the competition?"

"You know, not all humans are out to kill you," Shepard said, leaning her elbow on the counter between them. "Hell, some of us actually like Turians. My best friend's a Turian. All this stupidity between our people has to stop."

Roskir didn't say anything, but he didn't look convinced. Garrus nudged her side with his elbow and pointed. A Krogan lumbered toward them from across the room, his armor dark red under the blue lights. There was a rifle and a shot-gun strapped to his back, though, being Krogan, he was just as deadly without the weapons.

"Talid's waiting for you," the Krogan said, voice rough as gravel.

"But—" Roskir protested, but the Krogan ignored him and motioned for Shepard to follow.

Talid's booth was around the corner from the main room, tucked into the dark recesses of the bar, out of sight and earshot of the ordinary patrons. Shepard carefully took note of the number of customers in the bar—their location and how hostile they seemed. Some were still gripping their bottles by the necks, glaring at her. Others were pretending not to stare, but kept shooting furtive glances in her and Garrus's direction.

The female Turian who'd clawed Shepard's face was one of the angriest people in the bar. She was standing next to the exit, and when Shepard's eyes met hers, she spat at the ground and stormed out of the bar. The door slammed shut behind her.

"She wasn't happy," Garrus said. The female Turian's dramatic exit must have caught his attention too. "I have to say, under better circumstances, I wouldn't have minded watching you two wrestle with each other a little bit longer. One of the hotter inter-species cat-fights I've ever seen."

His comment surprised a laugh out of her. Several of the nearby patrons gave her dirty looks for it. She raised an eyebrow at Garrus and demanded, "What others have you seen?"

"Asari and humans, sometimes quarians." He paused as they turned the corner to the private booth, then added, "Once, a Volus and a female batarian got into a scuffle on Omega. It was…unpleasant."

She shook her head, but couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. Talid was seated on the L-shaped bench seat wedged into the corner behind the table. He said, "I don't know what you're smiling about. The Citadel's—what's that quaint human saying?—going to hell in a hand-bag."

"'Hand-basket,' but close. Good to see you've managed to stay un-assassinated, Talid," Shepard said, crossing her arms. "Staying out of trouble, I hope?"

"Have a seat, Shepard." Talid gestured toward the other edge of the bench seat across the table from him. "Thank you for your assistance the other day. If you would been a second later, that crazy drell would have killed me."

"You didn't call me here just to say 'thanks.'" She said, sliding onto the cushioned bench. Garrus stood with his back to the wall, keeping an eye on the Krogan bodyguard. "Or, I hope you didn't. Because, in case you didn't notice, I have bigger problems to deal with."

"Ah yes. The Reapers." Talid propped his elbows on the table. "Indulge me a bit. There will be plenty of time to save the galaxy after we talk."

"Actually, I was talking about fixing this mess between our species." Shepard replied. "Any idea how we can make this work?"

"The fastest way would be to give the Turians, Salarians and Asari back their seats on the Council. Dissolve the human seat until your kind has proven itself worthy of the joining the Council the same way we Turians did—through hard work, sacrifice, and many years of dedication."

"So you're proposing a complete reversal back to the way things were two years ago."

"If Saren hadn't attacked and you hadn't forsaken the Destiny Ascension, my 'proposal' would be our current reality."

"We can play 'woulda-coulda-shoulda' all day, Talid. But time goes forward, not back. There's no way the human-run Council is going to give up all four of its seats. Be reasonable."

"I am being reasonable, Spectre. Maybe you don't realize what's at stake here. Your species has shown itself to be power-hungry, conniving, willing to do anything to get what it wants. You're parasitic. Worse than the Vorcha or the batarians, because you aspire to much greater forms of evil."

"Evil?" Shepard arched an eyebrow and asked, "What are you talking about?"

"I am backed by more than just disgruntled Turians. I have full government task forces at my disposal. The Shadow Broker has been very generous in its support as well. And I've found some very upsetting information regarding humans.

"It seems as though humanity has made contact with the Reapers. And, based on the compiled intel gathered by my sources, humans struck a deal to ensure their survival after the Reapers purge the galaxy."

"That's absurd!" Shepard slammed her hands on the table, leaping to her feet. "That doesn't even make sense. And anyways, since when does anyone believe me about the Reapers' existence? Hell, even after Sovereign attacked the Citadel, people were still ignoring the Reaper threat.

"The human Council doesn't believe you. They shut you up. And they do it because the Alliance is already aware of the Reapers and that they aren't the enemy." Joram swirled the contents of his glass around slowly. "Based on what I've found, you're being used. By everyone. Nothing is what you think it is."

"Your sources lied to you. Humans were being kidnapped. Thousands of humans were being killed because of a Reaper. They're killing humans, not working with them. Besides, the Alliance didn't even know it was a Reaper behind the attacks."

"They knew. Worse, Alliance brass okayed it. For some reason, the Reapers needed thousands of humans. It was a business transaction—a gift of to show humanity's dedication to the cause." Talid pushed a datapad across the table for her to read. She glanced down at the screen, but couldn't bring herself to pick it up. There were a number of files saved as icons on the desktop. "Read the data when you get a chance. The best non-human minds worked hard to collect this. It's the best we can do, now that we don't have Council leadership to do this sort of thing for us."

"Commander…" Garrus started, his voice layered with anger and confusion. She held up one finger, her own reaction—the fear, disbelief, betrayal—was too overpowering to allow her to register anyone else's feelings yet.

The datapad rested at the edge of the table. If what he was saying was true…what did that mean? That those in power were using ordinary citizens as what? Currency? To ensure their own survival? But Shepard had seen what that survival meant. She's seen the Collectors, mere shells of their former glory as Protheans.

And the most powerful members of humanity WANTED that for their species?

_But this is politics,_ she reminded herself. She swallowed heavily, fought down the nausea that swept through her in waves. This is politics. And the Turian politician sitting across the table didn't look particularly surprised or upset by the knowledge he'd presented to her. She tapped a corner of the datapad and said, "Why are you telling me this? What do you get out of it?"

"Maybe I believe you're the only human brave enough to stand up against corrupt Alliance officials?" he purred. She didn't buy it for a second, and that must have showed on her face, because he added, "The election is in four days. I know that I will win, I've seen the polls. I have the non-human vote, and they outnumber humans. It is inevitable that I will reclaim one of the Council seats from your people."

Shepard held her breath and waited.

"If I lose, I will know the election was rigged and that the Alliance and human Council members orchestrated it. If, in four days time, the Turians have not regained their seat on the Council, I will release copies of all my findings, implicating human officials by name and with evidence, to every major news organization on the Citadel."

"And if it comes to that, there will be revolution in the streets. Many innocent people will die, but we will have our station back. The Salarian and Turian governments are agreed on this matter." Talid rose from his seat and paused to fix the cuffs of his sleeves. "Take my message to your Council. Show them the evidence on the datapad and note their reaction. You have four days to convince them that dirty tricks aren't going to work on me."

Talid moved toward the hallway with his Krogan bodyguard trudging along behind him. Shepard snatched the datapad off the table and started after him, but the Krogan stood his ground, blocking her from reaching Talid. "Wait. Our people should be joining forces to fight the Reapers, not back-stabbing each other—"

Talid interrupted her, safe as he hid behind the bulk of the Krogan. "Save your talk of honor and duty. Your kind doesn't know the meaning of the words. Why would anyone trust a species that betrays its own people, handing the innocent over to be killed so that those lucky enough to be in power might survive? If humans can turn on their own, they won't hesitate to do the same to us."

Then he kept walking. He and the Krogan disappeared around the corner. Shepard stared down the hallway and sat back down on the bench, knees weak. She dropped the datapad onto the table and dragged her hand over her face.

She didn't uncover her eyes. So many angry thoughts swarmed through her head, burrowed deep into her brain and triggered memories. Collectors. The human Reaper. Thousands of lives. Meaningless. All of it. Her sacrifice—almost losing her friends, her teammates, for something that might have been planned all along. How much had Cerberus known about the situation? Had The Illusive Man known?

Talid was right. If it were true, it changed _everything_ she thought she knew. She would have no one on her side. Cerberus was against her. The Council had already shown they couldn't care less. Non-human governments hated her. And the Alliance—HER Alliance—couldn't be trust. There was a cold pit in her stomach. Enemies on all sides.

She couldn't breathe.

"Move over." Garrus didn't give her the chance to respond. He sat down on the edge of the bench, the metal of his armor clinking against hers as he moved closer. He stretched one arm along the back of the bench seat, behind her shoulders. "He might be lying. Using fake data to manipulate you. Your interest in the Reapers is no secret to people who know who to ask and how much to pay. He might be the one resorting to dirty tactics."

She took a deep breath. He knew exactly what to say. Her fears weren't completely eradicated, but the crippling sense of betrayal did subside a little. She leaned her head to the side, resting her forehead in the crook of his neck. It was an uncomfortable angle, but the soothing feeling of his warm skin on hers was worth it. She tilted her chin up and pressed her lips to the rough skin on the side of his neck.

"Hm," he murmured and she felt the tremors against her lips on his throat. She flicked her tongue out, the taste of his sweat, the rapid thrum of his pulse. She froze. Was he holding his breath? A thrill of excitement went through her and she hid her smile against his neck. What was wrong with her? Her world was tearing apart at the seams and all she could focus on was him. "About that hotel room…"

At least the feeling was mutual.

She tore herself away from him with a quiet groan. It took a lot more self-control than she would have liked to admit, and she regretted having to do it immediately. But the datapad on the table glowed with information that she had to deal with.

Garrus ran the fingers of his right hand through her hair, messing it up worse even as he tried to fix it. She swatted his hand away lightly, smoothing her short hair back into place. "Come on. Sexy fun time will have to wait. We gotta get back to the Normandy and brief the rest of the crew—"

"Shepard," he protested, then sighed and shook his head. "You're a damn tease. Besides, the rest of the crew is probably getting smashed at Flux. Which doesn't sound half bad right now."

She reached for the datapad and he intercepted her hand. "You need rest. Even if it's just for a few hours. You're jumpy. It's affecting you. You look pale. Exhausted."

"I don't have the time, Garrus."

"You have to find the time," he stated. "If you run yourself down, your judgment will be impaired. You'll be more prone to start fights. Your temper, which isn't good to begin with, is going to get worse. And with the way things are, with everyone against humans, you can't risk angry words in public."

He was right. Thinking back, she could even admit that maybe her actions toward the female Turian had been a tad extreme. But she'd been so damn annoying!

Great. She _was_ tired. Beyond tired. Damn it, she'd faced the hardest battle of her life less than a day before! Hours, really! She deserved to sleep.

"We don't have to do anything. In fact, if you'd rather sleep alone we can go back to the Normandy and—"

"No," Shepard said, gripping his hand even as he loosened his hold to let hers go. "No. I want you." He looked taken back by her words. Embarrassment colored her cheeks and she fumbled, "But, if you'd rather go to Flux, or do something else, I won't stop you. You're probably tired of me dragging you everywhere—"

He cupped her face in the palms of his hands and brought his mouth to hers. She froze. The kiss was abrupt. A little stiff. Warm. New.

He'd never initiated a kiss before. He spoke against her lips, sheepishly, "Help me out here, Shepard."

She wondered if Turians kissed each other often, or if he was trying his best to show affection by her human standards. It didn't matter. He was trying, and that fact alone made her want him more. She closed her eyes and returned the kiss, threading her fingers through his on her cheek. After a minute, they drew back, parting to catch their breath.

An eight hour break from saving the galaxy was all she needed.

Garrus leaned in again, resting his forehead on hers. His eyes were closed, but there was an expression of peace on his face she'd never seen before. She touched his scarred jaw, her fingers ghosting across the hard skin of his face. He made a small noise in the back of his throat—almost a purr.

_Maybe ten hours,_ she thought, his right mandible tickling the palm of her hand. _Just to be safe._


	4. Fourth Contact: The Truth is Out There

**A/N:** Spring Break means writing for fun! So I'd just finished my Shakespeare paper and was about to move onto my Philosophy mid-term study guide when I remembered Elcor and their love of Shakespeare. Then I wondered how the Elcor would sound giving one of Henry V's famous speeches: "Once more unto the breech, dear friends, once more; or close the walls up with our English dead…"

And then I remembered I had something fun to write that involved politics(boo) and hot aliens(yay)!

**Fourth Contact—The Truth is Out There.**

"Shepard."

"Unnh? EDI, nuh…five minutes—" She groaned and rolled over, burying her face in her pillow. She yanked at the blankets, pulling them up until they covered her head completely. Her legs ached, especially her thighs. Had she been running? Doing squats? She couldn't remember. It hardly seemed to matter now.

She let herself float back toward sleep. Surrounded by her warm blankets, the lingering soreness in her muscles evaporated and all thoughts went silent.

"Shepard, wake up."

Something moved beside her.

She was in the Collectors' base, back pressed against a wall, Harbinger firing bursts of flame in her direction. His deep, monotone voice resonated through her mind, blurring the line between memories and dreams, past and present.

_We know you feel this. You cannot escape._

Her eyes snapped open and she bolted to her feet, searching for anything she could use as a weapon. The bedside lamp was the closest thing and she moved to grab it just as Garrus's laughter filled the room. She stared at him for a second, her sleep-dazed brain struggling to catch up with her body. Her knees wobbled and she leaned back against the wall behind her. Garrus watched her with interest, reclining on the bed, a sheet thrown carelessly over his waist and hips.

Why was he staring at her like that? She looked down at herself.

Oh. She was naked. That explained it.

Shepard tried her hardest not to dive back into bed to hide her embarrassment. She grabbed the blanket hanging half off the mattress and tugged, but it didn't budge. She could feel her face and ears grow hot. She pulled the blanket again. Then she saw Garrus's fingers wrapped around the edge of the blanket closest to him, the fabric pulled taut spanning the distance between his and her hands.

She cleared her throat and ordered in her most commanding voice: "Let go of the blanket."

"That's one order I'll have to disobey, Commander," he said obviously on the verge of laughter.

"Insubordination!" She yelled, letting go of the blanket. He fell back against his pillow, still gripping his end of the fabric. He laughed, and she used his distraction to her advantage. She quickly crawled back into bed and squirmed under the blanket, curling against his side. He held out his arm, offering his shoulder to her as a head-rest. She grumbled into his chest, "Why'd you wake me up?"

"It's time to go back. The alarm wasn't even fazing you." He traced his nail around the scab on her cheek where the Turian woman had clawed her. "I briefly considered a bucket of ice water, but I figured I'd try negotiating first. Just like you taught me."

Shepard pressed her lips to the hardened skin of his shoulder. "You're lucky you did. Last time someone used a bucket of water to wake me up was in basic. I dented the bucket against his head."

"Commander?" Joker's voice rang out from her earpiece on the bed-side table. She disentangled herself from Garrus's limbs and the blanket to grab her earpiece. She pressed it to her ear just in time to hear Joker say, "—Meeting's in thirty minutes and you aren't back yet. You okay?"

"I'm fine. Just heading out now."

Joker didn't respond, as if he could tell she was lying by the sound of her voice. After a few seconds, he said, "Alright. And Samara wants a word before you head into the debriefing room. Says it can't wait."

While Joker was talking, Shepard climbed out of the bed and scoured the bedroom for her clothes. She stopped in front of the closet door. Hooked on the doorknob was her bra. She picked it up with her index finger, dangling the bra from a shoulder strap, and showed it to Garrus for explanation. He raised both hands a silent gesture that meant, _Don't look at me. I don't know how it got there._

"Commander, you still there? Hel-lo?"

Shepard replied hastily, "Yeah, thanks, Joker. We're heading back to the Normandy now."

Garrus's eyes widened. There was silence from Joker's end. She repeated her last words in her head and then cringed. "I mean _I'm_ heading back. Now. To the Normandy."

"Sure, you are. Glad you and Garrus got some down-time, Commander. See you soon."

Shepard dropped the earpiece to the bedside table and flopped back down on the bed with a groan. "Damn it. Now that Joker knows, everyone on the ship is going to know by the time we get back."

"Don't worry. It's not like anyone will bring it up. You'd be surprised how much people will ignore if the truth makes them uncomfortable," Garrus said, sitting up in bed and searching for his own discarded clothes. "Besides, Joker knows how to be discrete if he puts his mind to it."

Shepard sighed as she shoved her arms into her bra straps. "You're probably right. We'd better hurry."

---

"So. Banging the subordinates. Is that standard Alliance protocol, or you just got a thing for the scaly ones?" Jack asked as soon as Shepard stepped into the elevator after changing her clothes in the Captain's Quarters. Shepard suppressed a groan and fixed her expression into a mask of indifference. Jack didn't mean anything by it. She was just being friendly.

Luckily, she and Garrus had split up upon arriving at the Normandy so she was the only one who had to endure Jack's attempts at friendly conversation. "Good to see you too, Jack. How's shore leave treating you?"

"Dunno." Jack shrugged and followed Shepard out of the elevator onto the second level of the Normandy. "It's boring on this station. Started getting a headache from all the noise and crowds, so I came back here after a few hours. Brought back a bottle of the cheapest, strongest shit I could find and got hammered in the cargo area."

"Sounds like you had more fun that I did," Shepard grumbled. If Jack had accompanied her and Garrus to deal with all the politicians on the Citadel, someone would have died. A lot of someones.

"Sex with a giant callus isn't fun? Surprise," Jack said, just as they entered the quiet debriefing room.

Everyone turned to stare at them.

Shepard wanted to cover her face and walk back out of the room. But she was their Commander. And she'd called this meeting.

Samara broke the silence. "Commander. A word?"

"Right, of course," Shepard said, leaving Jack in the debriefing room with the rest of the crew. She followed Samara into the hallway for some privacy. Though, apparently, privacy was an imaginary thing for some people onboard the Normandy.

"Shepard. I am leaving your crew and returning to my travels." Samara said, her voice quiet, sad, but even. "There are injustices in the galaxy and I must try and attend to them."

Shepard's first reaction was relief, though it felt like a betrayal to admit it. Sad to see her teammate go, but relieved. She'd worried about how Samara would react to the news of possible Alliance corruption. Any corruption would be worth investigating and would demand the strictest punishment as dictated by her Code. Samara didn't understand politics or tact or subtly. Whoever's names showed up in Talid's datapad would die by Samara's hand, because the Code demanded nothing less for their crimes.

And, honestly, Shepard didn't know what she was going to do if the rumors were true. But she couldn't go in biotics blazing and bullets flying. This was politics. There were too many unknown variables. And some of the names in that datapad were so high-ranking even she didn't know them personally. If an Asari justicar killed any of them, it would just lead to an all-out, intergalactic war.

"Thank you, Samara." Shepard placed her hand on Samara's shoulder. "For everything. The Collectors weren't after your people, but you still risked your life to stop them. If you ever need help, you know where to find me."

Samara inclined her head. "You've already helped me accomplish the one goal I had remaining in this life. But thank you for the offer."

Shepard watched Samara walk down the hallway, the clicking of her heels echoing against the metal walls. The justicar paused at the end of the hall and glanced back, smiling. "Perhaps, our paths will cross again, if you ever find yourself on another suicide mission."

"Commander. The remaining crew has convened in the debriefing room. They are waiting on you." EDI chimed. Shepard stared at the closed door, imagining her teammates on the other side. How would they react when she told them? How could she tell them that her people—Jacob, Jack and Miranda's people—were sold out by their own kind? That the deaths of thousands were bargaining chips to ensure the safety of a handful?

It was thoughts like these that made her sick with hatred and anger. She couldn't lose herself to it, but the more she thought about it, the angrier she got. How would she be able to talk anyone out of seeking revenge when she wanted blood as much as they would when they knew?

"Commander Shepard—"

She inhaled, and then interrupted EDI, "I know. They're waiting." Shepard pressed the green control panel and the doors opened. Her team turned toward her as one entity, all chatter silenced when she stepped into the room. The doors slid shut behind her and she almost jumped at the whisking noise.

She walked to the edge of the oval desk in the middle of the room. She dropped Talid's datapad onto the counter, the loud clatter of plastic hitting metal rang through the room.

"Siha, are you…" Thane stopped when she held a hand up, but his wide, black eyes, normally so restless, fixed on her without wandering.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes for a moment. Then she dropped her hand away from her face and said, "Mordin. Miranda. Can you two look into the data on this pad? I was told that it was gathered by members of the Salarian Task Group and agents of the Shadow Broker."

"STG? Data pertaining to Collectors, perhaps?" Mordin asked, reaching for the datapad. "Or—"

"I'll get to that. Copy the files to your omni-tools, but leave the original data on the datapad intact."

"What's on it, Shepard? Who did you get this from?" Miranda asked. Mordin's omni-tool glowed orange, his fingers fiddling with the datapad. "And why is it important?"

Shepard paused, coming up with five different ways to answer that question. None of them properly conveyed the right amount of anger and betrayal at their situation.

"What the hell's going on?" Jack said from across the room, breaking the silence. "Why won't you—"

"This information suggests that certain Alliance officials may have known about the Reaper attacks in the Terminus Systems long before they happened. That these officials may have…" She stopped, tripping over the word, "Struck a deal with the Reapers, handing over the humans in the Terminus Systems for experimentation."

She could feel the atmosphere in the room ebb like the sea before a tidal wave…and then noise crashed down all around her. Voices, multiple ones, raised and angry. Furious. Jacob spoke first, but the others joined in before he could finish his sentence. "What the hell kind of operation is the Alliance running?"

"—Couldn't have known. There's no way that Cerberus would have allowed—"

"That's sick! Keelah, your own people—"

"—Saved innocent lives from Reapers. Didn't want to be saved, or—"

"I knew I couldn't trust—"

Shepard put both her pinkie fingers in her mouth and blew. Hard. The whistle silenced everyone. "Quiet down. I can't even be sure if this information is correct. A Turian politician named Joram Talid gave it to me. He plans to blackmail the Council with it."

She turned toward Miranda and Mordin. "But if it's true…it changes everything we thought we knew about our mission. I need answers and you two have the best connections: Miranda, try to get as much as you can out of your old Cerberus contacts and intel network. Mordin, you worked for the STG. See what you can verify. Supposedly they helped compile the data. Something about how the Salarian government is backing Talid behind the scenes."

"Implications unsettling. Civil unrest on the Citadel could be breeding ground for anti-human movement. Seeds of revolution?" he paused for breath, seemed to sort through his thoughts in a millisecond, then shook his head. "No, no, no. Best not to draw conclusions without evidence. Collect data first—test, run experiments—then form theory. Shepard is right. Investigation necessary before anything else."

"Joram Talid," Thane spoke suddenly, his voice calm. He hadn't once looked away from Shepard since she walked in the room. While everyone else had thrown their voices around, adding to the chaos, only he and Garrus remained silent. "He's the one Kolyat was hired to kill. The turian you saved."

Shepard nodded.

"Judging by the situation on the Citadel, Talid harbors no great love for humans. Which begs the question: why would he care enough to pass the information on to you?"

"He already told me why. He wants to ensure that the humans on the Council don't resort to using dirty tactics in the upcoming election."

Thane blinked. "All this work to ensure a fair election? I think not. Siha, you have crossed over into territory you are not completely familiar with. As much as I trust your leadership on the battlefield, where things are black and white, you must rely on others in your crew more accustomed to dealing in these…shady, gray areas. Talid was crooked before. No doubt he still is. We both saw him and his Krogan bodyguard shaking down humans on the Citadel. He is a bully in a finely tailored suit. As most politicians are."

"Exactly," Garrus added. She sought his eyes from across the center console. "You can't trust any of these guys. Udina and Anderson are using you, Talid is using you. Who's next? The Elcor diplomat? Does he have a few dirty human secrets to air out, too?"

"The Volus ambassador would be more likely," Thane said. Shepard frowned. It was hard to tell, especially when the rest of the crew was so emotionally distraught, but…were they making fun of her?

"Well, I'm glad you two are having a nice laugh, because to the humans in the room, this is a matter of dire consequence." Miranda grabbed the datapad from Mordin and held it up. Her omni-tool flashed orange across her forearm and she tapped a few buttons on the datapad's keyboard. Her eyes moved, following the text on the datapad's screen. "This is unbelievable. Who were Talid's sources again, Shepard?"

"Members of the STG and the Shadow Broker's network."

Miranda ran her finger along her omni-tool's holographic image. The orange light disappeared and she put the datapad back on the counter. "I'll see what I can find through my Cerberus contacts and get the word out about the Shadow Broker. With any luck, I'll have this cleared up by the end of the day."

Shepard tapped her knuckles against the metal counter on the center console in front of her. Cerberus. What did they know about the Alliance and the Reapers? The Illusive Man could have used her ignorance against the Alliance to further his own goals. "Miranda. Can the Normandy still link up to the Illusive Man's private channel?"

Miranda raised one eyebrow at the question. "Of course. But I thought you didn't want anything to do with Cerberus after your last…discussion with him."

"I don't. Just thinking about talking to that bastard again makes me sick. But he might be able to tell us—" she stopped mid-sentence and laughed. "I almost said 'the truth.' This is the Illusive Man we're talking about and I'm thinking maybe if I just ask him nice, he'll tell it to me straight. Like he didn't lie about the state of the Collectors' ship, put us all in danger, just to get us to salvage Reaper tech for him."

"Forget all this bullshit! I say we bust some Alliance heads together until they tell us what we want to know," Jack said, slamming her fist into the metal counter. Seconds before impact, her skin glowed blue with biotic energy. Her fist left a huge dent where it connected with the metal.

All things considered, Shepard was just glad Jack hadn't torn the console apart. She took solace in the small victories. "Until we get this cleared up, we aren't doing anything crazy. Mordin, Miranda, we're waiting on your findings. Report to me as soon as you have anything conclusive—"

Before Shepard could dismiss the team, EDI's blue avatar flickered above the central console. "Excuse me, Commander. Legion has been monitoring transmissions by organics within the Citadel—"

"Spying on us, you mean," Tali muttered.

"…He would like to talk to you in the AI core before you head out."

A corner of Shepard's mouth tugged up in a humorless, lopsided smile. "I'm so popular right now. Tell him I'll be right there. Though why he wasn't at the debriefing is beyond me."

"He was busy filtering the organics' transmissions. However, I have kept him updated on the proceedings." EDI replied.

"Thank you, EDI," Shepard said. "I'll keep you all informed. This is top-secret information. Don't share what I've told you with the rest of the crew until we've got a firmer handle on the situation. Dismissed."

She turned to leave and Thane followed, side-stepping Garrus and Jack to catch up to her in the hall. "Siha. I would like to accompany you on your next trip to the Citadel. I feel as though my expertise could assist you on this mission."

"The objectives aren't clear enough to call this a mission, Thane." She squinted at him out of the corner of her eyes. "And I thought I told you, if you aren't going to tell me what this 'Siha' nonsense is about, then you don't get to call me it."

She stepped into the elevator and Thane moved to stand next to her. The elevator doors started to slide shut. "Before you arrived in the debriefing room, Garrus was explaining the meeting between you and the Councilors. Have you considered taking this data to Anderson?"

She hadn't thought of it, but now, she hesitated. Not facing the Illusive Man was one thing: it was a given he would lie. But Anderson? She trusted the man enough to put him on the Council. Underneath all that trust, however, was the fear that maybe her trust was misplaced. His would be the biggest betrayal of them all.

No. Even if the information was true, there's no way Anderson would have known about it. He wouldn't have idly sat by and let it happen. And she wouldn't confront him until it was confirmed, either way. "I don't think—"

A hand slipped between the elevator doors just before they could shut. The doors swung open again and Garrus stepped inside. Thane had to step back to give Garrus enough room in the cramped elevator. Shepard suppressed a grin when she saw what he was doing. "Sorry." He wedged himself into the small space between Shepard and Thane. "Heading down, right? Third level?"

"That's where the AI Core and Life Support room is. So yes." Shepard managed to sound very serious, a fact which she was immensely proud of considering the awkward Muzak playing in the elevator and how close Garrus was standing to her.

"Oh, good. I'm headed to the Forward Batteries myself." His eyes darted to rest on Shepard's face, his mandibles flaring wide in what could only be a Turian smile. "Got some calibrating to do."

"With the Normandy stuck in port until the election is over, what use will we have for the Thanix Cannons?" Thane asked.

"Show some respect. Those cannons got us out of a tight spot during the fight with the Collectors," Garrus said. Shepard took a deep breath and tried not to groan. Could this elevator move any slower? "I would have thought you, at least, would understand the importance of calibrations. Imagine. You have an M-98 Widow, best sniper rifle in the galaxy, but the aim is off, the balance is all out of alignment. Now, I have a more common Viper model with perfect balance and a finely tuned scope. Unless you plan on running at me swinging that expensive rifle like a bat, I guarantee—"

She was out of the elevator as soon as the door opened wide enough for her to slip through side-ways. As an adept, she had little interest in the finer points of sniper rifles, and as much as she enjoyed Garrus's company, she'd learned long ago not to get him started on calibrations. As she made her way quickly down the hall toward the medical bay and AI Core, Shepard didn't even spare a backward glance for fear Garrus would switch targets and go after her. Thane would be fine, even if Garrus bored him half-asleep with shop talk. Thane knew how to take one for the team.

She, on the other hand, had more important things to attend to. In particular, the Geth holed up in her ship's AI Core.


End file.
